


How Dean Winchester Celebrates His Bisexuality

by Swlfangirl



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Coming Out, Crack, Dean comes out of the closet, Dean's bisexuality, Fluff, Humor, Nothing Hurts, Tumblr Prompt, and everything is a friggin rainbow, anon ask, based on a tumblr post as well, domestic!Dean, implied blowjob
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-19
Updated: 2016-02-19
Packaged: 2018-05-21 22:35:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,284
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6060661
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Swlfangirl/pseuds/Swlfangirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There's an actual heartfelt confession and approval alongside cookies, homevideos, fake research, and a few snarky comments. Enjoy!</p>
            </blockquote>





	How Dean Winchester Celebrates His Bisexuality

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt: The five times Dean brags to Sammy that he is banging Cas and the one time he didn't (but now Sam needs brain bleach). Inspired by a post circulating around Tumblr. Maybe you've seen it.

 

 

Based on this post ([ x ](http://mspntaro210.tumblr.com/post/138692980781/sometimes-dean-just-doesnt-know-when-to-let-a))

  


1

 

Dean’s lids blink open as he snuggles into the soft, heated comfort of his mattress. It feels amazing on his aching joints this far into the winter season. He can tell immediately that he’s slept in even though it still feels early. He drapes an arm over the warm body beside him and can’t fight the wide, dopey grin that spreads across his face. Castiel’s hard muscle and dusting of hair along his lower abdomen is a welcome change to the delicate curves and perky breasts he’s used to feeling.

 

He really can’t stop smiling, it’s ridiculous.

 

Though he doesn’t want to, almost actually doesn’t for the first time since he can remember, Dean pulls himself out of the damn near perfect environment. He’s willing to concede it could be slightly better if only Castiel would wake up. He knows that’s not going to happen soon though. He’s been sleeping more and more lately but it’s not worrying because the guy went months on less than even Dean had.

 

Dean is awake and he thinks it’s probably still early enough to beat Sammy to the kitchen. The guy can’t make a damn cup of coffee to save his life. It’s a little pathetic, but Dean loves the kid and doesn’t mind taking care of him. So, he untangles himself from Cas and slips on a pair of pajama pants and a robe before navigating his way toward the kitchen.

 

By the time Sam stumbles his way to the table. Dean’s got a steaming mug of coffee waiting and he’s putting the finishing touches on full plate of breakfast. There’s an omelet filled with bacon, hashbrowns, and those nasty ass vegetables Sammy likes cut into it alongside warm buttered toast. Dean’s outdone himself and he’s kinda proud as he starts to make his own plate. Besides, it’s a special occasion and he wanted to do it right.

 

“Wow, you were up early...everything okay?” Sam asks, after visibly sipping a third of his coffee in consecutive sips the way a toddler would. It’s not adorable at all but Dean fights back the urge to mock the kid, if only to save the warm ambience for their future conversation.

 

“Yeah, Sammy. I’m good, really good actually. There’s uh, there is something I wanna talk to you about though,” Dean says. He finishing piling his plate full and takes a seat beside Sam at the table.

 

“Oh-kay, sure man. What is it?” Sam asks, digging into his first real bite of food with gusto.

 

Sam’s eyes flutter shut from the taste and Dean feels a curl of satisfaction deep in his bones. He uses that to vault himself forward, swallowing hard around the lump in his throat. He knows Sam, okay. He knows that kid better than the dork knows himself. Dean understands that the anxious panic in his gut is much more about his own comfort level than any illusion that his brother would somehow pick now as the one time he wouldn’t be accepting and supportive. It doesn’t make it disappear though, so he tries to just power through it.

 

“I wanted to talk to you, y’know about Cas. Well, it’s more about me than Cas but..” Dean hesitates, trying his damndest to calm himself. He closes his eyes and remembers the way Cas looked in his bed. Hair rumpled with sleep, iridescent blue eyes hidden behind closed lids with too long lashes framing them. The one bedside lamp they left on casting a glow almost reminiscent of the sun breaking through a nonexistent window. The sight had been breathtaking and it was just the thing he needed to gather his courage.

 

“I love him...and before you say anything just, just let me get this out.” Dean takes a deep breath, forcing his eyes to remain steady, matching his brother’s gaze. He can’t let himself seem weak or embarrassed about this. It will only make things harder for Sam to take him seriously.

 

“It’s not strictly friendly, or platonic. I’ve been head over heels for the guy for so long that I don’t know when it started.” Dean scrubs a hand down his face but continues. He tries to hide the morose look on his face as he thinks about what he’s going to say next. “I’ve been so stupid over him for so many years Sammy that I, I think I hurt him more than I’m still willing to think about but that’s over now. No matter what happens from here on out, I’m not giving him up. We’re in it for the long haul.”

Dean nods at his brother so he doesn’t have to say, _your turn,_ and waits with bated breath.

 

Sam’s mouth starts curving into a smile almost immediately and Dean feels both relief and a small amount of fondness. He knows that particular smile. It’s warm affection and happiness laced with a tinge of playful teasing and he’ll take it. God he’ll take that over anything, anything else he imagined settling onto his brother’s face.

 

“I’m happy for you, man.” Sam says, clapping him on the back. Less than a second later he adds, “For both of you.”

 

Now that there are encouraging and supportive words out there, Dean is even more relieved than before. His shoulders go slack without the heavy weight he’d felt pressing down on them. He sips at his coffee with a wide satisfied smile and allows that to speak volumes about what he’s feeling and Sammy, just like always, seems to get it.

 

Just like that, Dean feels more whole somehow. Like the last piece of the puzzle he’d been working on for years. The jumbled up mess inside himself aligned more perfectly than ever before once the final tile had just slid into place. “Thanks, we’re pretty happy too.”

 

And because Dean is still Dean, he adds on a smirk. Holding up the familiar piece of leather wrapped around his neck. “Angels, Sammy. I’m telllin’ ya, I think I was a lot closer to finding God last night than Cas ever got with this thing.”

 

Sam’s face falls into a fond disgust and a bitchface all in one before grabbing up his plate and doing his best to shield his ears from any potentially more revealing information as Dean starts laughing.

 

He shouts a hard “Asshole,” back at Dean on his way to anywhere else Dean thinks as he leaves the kitchen.

 

“Hey, I’ll have you know that I have it on good authority that dicks and assholes get along great. Probably why you love me so much, Sammy!” Dean hollers toward his brother’s retreating back and chuckles to himself when he hears a choking noise from the hallway.

 

Yeah, everything was going to be just fine.

* * *

 

2

 

The next day Dean is digging into the cupboards of the gigantic pantry off to the side of the bunkers kitchen when Cas finds him. The angel is still half asleep from an afternoon nap, the guy was practically a damn cat now, mojo or not. Still, the weight of him at Dean’s back is pleasantly warm so he just ruffles a hand through Cas’ unkempt hair and smiles. “Bout time you woke up, Angel.”

 

“Do you remember when I detested falling into oblivion for hours on end? It seems that’s no longer a concern now that I have my grace back.” Castiel says, his voice still a little hoarse from sleep and if Dean’s suspicions are correct, doing so with his mouth open the entire time.

 

“Yeah, man. Everything okay?”

 

“Actually, I-I’m not sure. I find the darkness a comfort but I’m starting to wonder if perhaps the colloquialism “too much of a good thing” is pertinent.” Castiel answers, his voice still scratchy in a way that only adds to Dean’s worry.

 

“Well, how about this, maybe since you don’t actually _need_ to sleep you could just catch some shut eye while I do. That way you’re not using it to… that way it’s not too much,” Dean offers, a small tentative smile on his face as he looked back at the angel.

 

Castiel nods slowly, his own hesitation clear but Dean can tell immediately he wants to stop hiding. “Can’t say I want you to stop completely though, you look adorable when you just wake up.”

 

Castiel’s cheeks tinge pink and he ducks his head before Dean can tug him into a soft kiss. It’s a simple press of lips but even that is enough to have both of them smiling blissfully and letting out small peels of laughter. He stares into the deep blue of Cas’ half lidded eyes until Sam clears his throat in the doorway.

 

His brother just smirks back at him, a smugness bordering on ridiculous as he moves into the room. It isn’t until he stops at the table that Dean gets suspicious but Sam just shakes his head. “Aww aren’t you two just so cute,” he says in a teasing baby voice.

 

“Damn straight,” Dean starts, then smiling to himself before shrugging and adding a quiet, “well, mostly.”

 

He knew Sammy would take the bait and he wasn’t disappointed when he heard a soft grunt and a questioning, “huh?”

 

“I said, mostly straight...as in I like to do very unholy things to my boyfriend’s perky pale ass. Ain’t that right, Cas?” Dean lets his grin widen even further when he sees Sam sputter in disgust and playfully cover his ears. The image itself reminding Dean of an even younger Sammy with shorter hair and pinchable cheeks doing almost the same thing. The only part missing now was the loud la-la-la mantra.

 

“Must you really be so crass, Dean?” Castiel asks, though Dean doesn’t miss the small lift at the corner of his mouth.

 

“No, but Sammy spilled his nasty oily salad dressing all over my baby’s leather. So the way I figure, I owe that kid at least a week of psychological warfare.”

* * *

 

3

 

“C’mon, Angel. Just do this one little favor for me and I’ll...I’ll do that thing with my tongue that you love so much, “ Dean offers with a salacious grin. He’s setting up the camera beside the dresser and he thinks it’s at the perfect angle to catch what he wants.

 

“I love everything involving your tongue, Dean. Though I don’t know how much more of this Sam will take without retaliating and I for one do not want to be in the crossfire between you two. This might be the time to remind you that I held witness to an apocalypse once that started out eerily similar to something like this…” Castiel answers. It makes Dean turn and quirk an eyebrow which is more second guessing than he’d expected, he supposes. Still, Dean returns back to the camera and waves a hand dismissively.

 

“It’ll be fine, Cas. Now, look for me in the closet so I can hit record.”

 

Castiel shakes his head  a little, resigned  to his fate. “Yes, Dean. Of course.”

 

They film their skit Dean wanted to act out and soon enough he’s editing it as best he can, not willing to bother Charlie with the hassle for a prank. Also, maybe, because she much like Cas wanted nothing to do with it. Though she tried to hide it, Dean could tell she was cracking up at his idea though.

 

Finally he has it set up the way he wants and the short clip is hidden behind a folder labeled research on the laptop. He’d bought it for himself a couple months ago after Sam complained far too many times about porn viruses. Now he just needs to wait, and Dean can be patient when he wants.

 

_Shut up, he can._

 

Sam comes into the room less than half an hour later, like clockwork. God that kid is predictable and Dean empties his beer and sits the bottle down on the table with a small smack. “Hey, Sammy. I’mma grab another, you want?”

 

“Yeah, sure. Thanks, man.” Sammy answers and takes his seat at the table.

 

When he comes back he’s a little disappointed to not find Sam in his seat nosing through his stuff, cause he totally would have done the same given the opportunity, but he moves on. Dean takes his seat and plays a few rounds of solitare to occupy himself before closing it down and pulling up a newspaper article about a missing young girl in a small town in California.

 

He slides his computer toward Sam and says, “Whaddya think, maybe a case?”

 

Sam’s brows pull up in disbelief, probably because Dean hasn’t suggested any cases since before Cas moved into the bunker. They’ve done a few little things but it’s usually Sammy who brings it up. He looks over the article and makes a little frowny face, but Dean stifles his laughter and nonchalantly tacks on, “Oh there’s some more stuff from the area in my research folder.”

 

Sam rolls his eyes and shakes his head, “Only you would label the folder _Research_.”

 

Dean shrugs but his excitement is roiling in his gut. He can’t wait to see the look on Sammy’s face when he watched the video. He clicks play on the screen that looks like a news report and Dean watches as it flashes to life. Part of the genius of his plan is that [the news clip](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3PQBAFvfwfA&feature=youtu.be) lasts for a full ten seconds before switching to his homemade movie of Cas looking for him in the closet and Dean popping out of said closet, followed by a little something he added as an afterthought.

 

Sam’s face drops as soon as he sees Castiel and he quickly glares over at Dean but turns his attention back to the screen anyway, making a loud laugh bubble up and out of Dean’s lungs. “Oh my god, your face… your face is priceless.”

 

“Dean this is getting old.” Sam answers with a huff, but the side of his mouth tilts up and Dean can tell he’s happy, even if the annoyance is clearly winning out in his expression.

 

“Yeah, yeah, I love you too Sammy.”

* * *

 

4

 

The sugar smell is wafting through the kitchen and Dean knows it won’t be long before Sam the bloodhound sniffs it out. As much as he goes on and on about healthy eating, healthy living, et cetera, Sam is a sugar cookie junkie. He’d gotten the recipe from an old Better Homes and Gardens cookbook someone left behind in the bunker.

 

When Sam walks in Dean has already hidden away a couple of the cookies and the rest are lying on the tray waiting to be decorated. They’re all little circles barely tinted yellow with only slightly darker browning on the bottoms, baked to perfection if you ask him. He can practically feel the tension building between Sam and the sugared treats as soon as the guy steps in the door.

 

“They aren’t decorated yet but feel free to grab a couple if you want,” Dean says, not even bothering to look over his shoulder. Sam moves closer and Dean doesn’t have to see to know he’s taking enough to fill his giant moose hands. So he smiles and says, “Might wanna save room for a couple after dinner. I don’t think Cas has ever had a sugar cookie. Thought all of us could enjoy them together. Y’know?”

 

“Yeah, okay. Sounds great.”

 

He doesn’t hear Sam put any of the cookies back, but he doesn’t mind.

 

When the two large homemade pizzas are almost completely demolished, Dean grabs the container he’d put the finished cookies into and slides it over toward the center of the table between he and Sam.  He pulls off the lid and Sam just barks out laughing.

 

“Now this, this is one confession I can get behind,” he says, taking the two square cookies Dean had put aside just for him. They were frosted white with eight small black letters written over the top.

 

_Straight._

 

Dean and Cas both grab a couple round cookies left in the bottom that clearly say _“Not Straight”_

 

Sam doesn’t stop when he’s finished off the two squares and Dean starts to tease him, but instead he just lifts a questioning eyebrow and watches his brother shrug back at him with a wide smile on his lips. He thinks they might be happier than they’ve been in a really long time. Dean knows he is, at least.

* * *

 

5

 

  
“What’s that?” Sam asks warily. His gaze is zoned in on what appears to be a  fluffy black kitten in Castiel’s hands.

 

“I’ll tell you what it it’s not… my heterosexuality.” Dean’s smug grin over the last week has been driving Sam crazy with both delight and exasperation. He’s happy for the guy, really he his. But he can’t help but picture things no brother should have to picture when Dean makes one of his raunchy comments.

 

“Dean,” Sam sighs, but stops himself before saying something he’ll regret.

 

“Because that just doesn’t exist.” Dean says it so cheerfully that he might as well be singing it.

 

“Okay, dude. What the fuck?” Sam starts, but is cut off almost immediately.

 

“I’m bangin’ Cas!”

 

“Dean you’ve told me this every day since it started-it needs to stop. Seriously, stop.” Sam says, pleading with his eyes as much as he possibly can.

 

“Yeah, well.. keep your nasty ass oily vinegar and away from my baby’s interior and I might reconsider how often I bring up my favorite pastime,” Dean replies, his face switching from adoring happiness to a heated glare almost instantly.

 

Sam facepalms when he remembers the vinaigrette spilling out of the plastic salad container. He should have known Dean would seek retribution. He damn near brains himself as his head falls down onto the table at the realization he brought this on himself. It isn’t until Dean gets ready to leave the room that he hears, another hearty laugh from his brother.

* * *

 

+1

 

Sam sifts through the eight most local newspapers they’d managed to get subscriptions to as he walked upstairs from the garage. The drivers won’t come as far out as the bunker and they don’t want to draw any unnecessary attention to themselves. So, Sam bribes one of the ladies that works at the post office to collect them and let him pick them up there a few times a week. He usually makes his grocery run at the same time but in his hurry to get cleaned up after his morning run, he’d forgotten the list.

 

He jogs toward the kitchen, casually throwing the papers onto the desk in the large study. They’d converted half of the ridiculous room into a living area though that Sam was totally on board with when he’d caught a glimpse of the giant flat screen Charlie and Dean were hooking into the entertainment center. He smiles at it once more before walking closer to where Dean always leaves his list pinned to the fridge.

 

“Hey Cas,” he says, moving around the table and over to the fridge. He doesn’t notice anything off until he hears a choking gasp and turns to find Castiel wide eyed and terrified. His gaze naturally clicks down to see what’s wrong and there’s his brother, on his knees and he feels bile rising up in his throat.

 

“Jesus fucking Christ Dean, we eat in here!” Sam yells as he runs from the room, list long forgotten. Three showers later he still doesn’t think he can look his brother in the eye again for a while and when he does it will definitely be with a brand new list of ground rules.


End file.
